


Taking Care of You

by starscrearn



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Implied Relationships, M/M, Oral Sex, Pet Names, Vaginal Fingering, rung likes being touched is what i'm getting at here, tactile kink?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 23:30:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14725661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starscrearn/pseuds/starscrearn
Summary: Doctors might be good at taking care of others, but they're downright awful when it comes to themselves. Luckily, Ratchet's a patient mech, and more than willing to lend a hand.





	Taking Care of You

Several times over the… well, the millennia, if Rung was being honest with himself, he’d considered purchasing a toy or two that might make what he was planning to do a little easier. Between one thing and another, he’d never gotten around to it, but the regret was lessening by the second as he palmed open the door of his habsuite.

With everything that had happened on the ship, and as its only therapist, he was busier than ever; it was rare for him to have a break to himself, and he intended to make the most of it. He could recharge while Ratchet was present in their shared habsuite, and he’d done it before, but Rung preferred privacy for this. He flopped back into the pile of cushions on the berth, tossed his glasses onto the berthside stand-- they’d survived worse-- and manually deactivated his panels, sliding them out of the way. With a quiet sigh, he started to circle around his anterior node. Sensors began to come online as sensitivity increased, biolights flicked on and off in spiralling patterns, and slowly but surely charge began to build. Rung could feel it starting to dance along his frame, crackling out from his array and shooting up to nest behind his spark. It sank deep into his struts and fanned out to spark along his joints and over seams in his plating.

Rung traced up over those same seams, following the path of the charge. His fingers soon fell into an old, familiar path-- up along his thigh, across his hip, tripping over the seams in his chest just under a bit of protruding plating-- and eventually up to his spark casing, dancing around the rim. He slipped his hand back down, fingers trembling, to dart into gaps in his plating and tease through the wires. Static charge pricked against his fingertips, always seeming just out of reach. The fingers not tangled in his own wiring flicked gently over his exterior nodes, and the combination prompted a quiet moan as his head dropped back.

“Looks like you could use a hand.”

Rung yelped at the unexpected voice, jolting up and nearly falling off of the berth as he frantically attempted to slide his modesty plating back into place, as if that would make Ratchet somehow forget he’d just walked in on the ship’s psychiatrist in the process of fingering himself to an overload. Worse yet, his charge was still high, jumping from strut to strut under his plating. After a tense moment the panel finally clicked shut and he swung his legs off the side of the berth, the swollen folds of his valve pressing uncomfortably against the rapidly warming plating forced over them.

Doing his best to look a little more respectable despite the frequencies of his EM field all but burning with embarrassment, Rung forced out something he hoped would pass for a plausible explanation. “I-- that is, I-I didn’t realize your shift was over--”

He fumbled around on the stand for his glasses, hoping the added filter between him and Ratchet would help him regain some semblance of control, but he only succeeded in knocking them to the floor by mistake.

Ratchet waved him down when he tried to rise and stooped to retrieve the glasses. “I asked Aid to take over. I was planning to take you out for a round at Swerve’s, but you seem to have your hands full.” He shrugged as he straightened up, acting like it was the most natural thing in the universe to come back to your hab and see... _that._ “I’ll comm you beforehand next time.”

“Um. Yes, sorry about this, I--” Rung paused to cross his legs and actually whined as the adjusted position put an _interesting_ pressure on his valve.

“Sure you don’t want me to leave?”

“No, I’m-- _hrm._ I’m fine.”

For the moment, Ratchet was content to ignore the scene he’d walked in on; if Rung wanted to bring it or his offer of privacy up, he’d do it. But after giving the little mech a more thorough once over, he wasn’t content for long. Rung had his legs clamped together and one hand rubbed nervously over his thigh; Ratchet suspected it was only years of experience as a therapist that had the little mech meeting his optics.

“You’re tense is what you are.” He gestured to Rung’s shoulders, setting the glasses back on the table. “May I?”

After a long moment of hesitation, Rung nodded. After all, the best thing to do was most likely just to move on as quickly as possible. And Ratchet _was_ very good with his hands…

The medic sank down onto the berth next to him and arranged himself behind him before placing his hands on his shoulders. “You work _entirely_ too much,” he groused, rubbing at a stubborn cluster of wires in his shoulder joint.

“There’s just too much work to be done,” Rung replied, trying to be calm, trying to keep his voice free from static. His array pinged him, requesting release, and he resolutely forced the alert down. He let his helm fall forward until his chin nearly touched his chest and offlined his optics. “You know that as well as I do.”

“I do.” Ratchet swiveled his hands, keeping his thumbs against Rung’s shoulders and wrapping his hands around the sides of his chest. “But I have First Aid to take the pressure off of me. _You_ don’t. You’re trying to take care of everyone, and it’s burning you out.”

He traced along the seams in his plating and smiled gently where Rung couldn’t see when the mech’s spinal strut stiffened. From the sound of it, the psychiatrist had bitten into his lip in a poor attempt to muffle a groan as his hands jumped back to his thighs.

Ratchet pulled his hands away, and Rung leaned back in search of them. “Too much?”

_“Not--”_ He quickly reset his vocalizer, taking a half a second to try and compose himself. “Not at all.”

The hands returned. They stroked over the seams in his plating, sparking a surge of charge that raced up to meet them, crackling and buzzing in time with Rung’s field under the medic’s fingertips.

Ratchet chuckled. “Why don’t you let someone take care of _you_ for a change?”

Rung made a quiet, embarrassed noise as his panels finally overrode his commands and clicked back out of the way at the thrum of the medic’s voice. “I-- well…”

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he assured him, apparently oblivious to the little mech’s exposed array. Perhaps he just hadn’t noticed. For now, Ratchet’s hands remained against his back, stroking over his plating in a way intended to soothe instead of entice, and he pulsed out a reassurance in his field to brush against Rung’s.

Rung vented, glancing back over his shoulder. “I know.” He shifted forward and turned so he could actually see Ratchet, chewing at his lip and trying to ignore the heat rising in his face. “I think… um. I think I might take you up on that offer.”

He paused, biting into his lip again, and he hated how unsteady his voice sounded, hated even more how the steady whir of his cooling fans rushed to fill the silence in its stead. “I, ah-- I’m just... not sure how much I could do in _return--”_

Ratchet gently took hold of his chin and pulled him in for a quick kiss to distract him before he got too far down that line of thought. “Relax,” he urged, rubbing his thumb over the little mech’s cheek guard. “You don’t need to do anything except enjoy yourself. I’ll do all the work.”

He leaned away and pulled Rung back onto the berth, scooping him up with what seemed like hardly any effort at all. He settled in and lowered Rung down into his lap, gently easing his knees apart into a painless straddle. Though he’d certainly just seen it, Ratchet made no comment about his exposed valve, which Rung had given up trying to cover; his array seemed dead set on overriding his commands.

Perching on Ratchet’s thighs brought him to just about the medic’s height and the position certainly wasn’t uncomfortable, especially with how Ratchet seemed intent on working out each and every possible kink in the wiring of his hips. Under his care, Rung soon went soft-strutted, draping himself over Ratchet’s windshield with his cheek pressed against the medic’s broad shoulder. He wasn’t sure if the purring was coming from Ratchet’s engine or his own and quite frankly, he didn’t care. It felt _good._ He sighed quietly, barely resisting the urge to snuggle down against the grounder and stay there for the next century or so.

For a while he was content to simply lay there and savor the medic’s skillful hands, but he stiffened when Ratchet’s thumb migrated from his hip to his inner thigh.

He immediately shifted his hand back, away from the little bot’s array. “Is this alright?”

“Y-yes,” Rung managed, voice laden with static.

“Sensitive wiring?”

“Mhmm…”

“Then I wonder what will happen if I do _this…”_ He revved his engine, hard, and the vibrations carried all the way down his arm.

The answer was that Rung would arch up against him, his head falling back and his optics close to offlining, fingers scrabbling for purchase against Ratchet’s chest. An embarrassingly filthy moan escaped him as the vibrations seemed to bypass his sensors entirely and rub directly against his array.

“Oh, _that.”_ Ratchet smirked.

Rung frowned. “You don’t have to sound so _pleased,_ Ratch-- _ah!”_

Ratchet shifted his thumb up just under Rung’s plating, effectively halting his ability to form coherent words for the moment. “Nothing wrong with being a little more _tactile,_ Rung, but it did surprise me.” His voice was maddeningly level as he continued. “Though I have to wonder; is _this_ why you keep yourself so far apart from everyone?”

Rung opened his mouth to try and object, but Ratchet stroked over the cables under his plating again, and the only sound he managed to produce was a quiet moan, faceplates warming in arousal and embarrassment.

_"Yeah_ ,” Ratchet continued. “I noticed how much you isolate yourself, physically, I mean. At first I thought it was just the job, but now, well…” He smirked, but it seemed to have a tinge of sadness to it. “It’s the contact, isn’t it? Touching, being touched… gets you revved up, doesn’t it?” The little circles he’d been rubbing just to the right of Rung’s array suddenly ceased and Rung shifted restlessly towards his hand in an attempt to encourage him to resume.

Unfortunately for Rung, it also caused the outer coverings of his valve-- which he abruptly remembered was very, _very_ exposed-- to drag over an embarrassingly slick patch on Ratchet’s thigh, setting off starbursts of pleasure in his tacnet. He sank his denta into his lip as his fans kicked up a notch.

Ratchet wasn’t about to let him get away with that. Delicately, he ran his thumb over Rung’s lip, teasing it back out of his mouth. “Is that the reason?”

Rung had to reset his vocalizer twice more before he could actually speak. “Not… _entirely,_ no.”

“But you certainly seem to enjoy it.” Ratchet shifted his thigh and Rung had to clamp a hand over his mouth to muffle a moan.

“Yeah, that’s more like it.” He chuckled and dropped his hands to Rung’s knees. He slid the little mech forward in his lap until his array was pressed flush against Ratchet’s pelvic plating.

“Got another question for you, Rung.” Ratchet grinned. “What about this?”

And then his mouth was on Rung’s throat. His glossa played delicately over the fuel lines in his neck and his denta just barely scraped the surface. Rung, already overcharged from his earlier ministrations, answered him with a staticky cry and a failed attempt to override a small overload. The expelled charge crackled between them until it fizzled away a few moments later and he fell back against the medic, pressing his face into the crook of his neck as his fans did their best to bring his internal temperature back down.

“You want to keep going?” Ratchet murmured into his neck, nuzzling his cheek against his shoulder plating.

“Ah…” Rung breathed, fingers curling against the medic’s windshield with a quiet rasp of metal on glass. “I... I think so.”

“Think so?”

“I mean-- yes.” Rung smiled, still with a touch of embarrassment or shyness, Ratchet wasn’t sure which. “I do.”

“That’s good. But you know... I think I’m _still_ feeling some tension here…”

Ratchet was merciless in the most gentle way.

The presence of his hands over Rung’s frame was a constant, stroking a line here, rubbing out a tangle of wires there, brushing over plating then, teasing at cables now. Each touch lit up Rung’s tacnet with little bursts of static and had him nearly twitching in anticipation by the time Ratchet finally brought him to overload again through the remnants of his first. He could feel his sparkbeat in his valve, pressed as it was against Ratchet’s pelvic plating, and in practically every other part of his frame too.

Ratchet still hadn’t shown any interest in it, almost as if he somehow hadn’t noticed the heated metalmesh rubbing against him, but Rung couldn’t have cared less. As long as those skillful hands stayed on him, he was happy. It was as he lay strutless, still draped against Ratchet’s windshield that the medic’s hands finally strayed to his array.

Once again, his hands setted in against the insides of Rung’s thighs and shifted the little mech’s hips back so he could reach.

“May I?”

Rung made a soft, needy noise, more binary than proper vocalization. “Primus, _please.”_

He felt more than heard Ratchet’s amused snort at the mention of the deity.

“What’s he got to do with anything?” he muttered, brushing his thumb inward over Rung’s array. “Mm, this… now, _this_ is nice.”

Rung let out a squeak, pressing his heated faceplates into Ratchet’s shoulder and kneading his fingers into the medic’s backplates.

“That’s alright, you stay right there. I can work like this.”

He placed a hand against Rung’s back, not enough pressure that it flattened the slender mech against his chest, just enough to support him and keep him steady as he ran a slow finger over the folds of his valve, sliding it through the droplets of lubricant clinging to the psychiatrist’s array. Rung squeezed his optics shut and warbled out something in what Ratchet was fairly sure was a dead language, his thighs trembling just enough to knock against the medic’s. His field whirled around them both, a near-storm of desire, arousal, and tension.

Ratchet chuckled. “Good?”

_“Excellent.”_

“Can you tell me what you want?”

As soon as that finger moved again, no, he couldn’t, but he exvented with something that sounded like a sob, pressed himself closer to Ratchet’s hand, and nosed into his neck, kissing at a fuel line he found.

Ratchet’s engine revved. “Yeah, I get the idea. But I thought we agreed I was going to do all the work.” He punctuated his statement by finally pressing a digit into Rung’s valve and beginning a slow exploration.

The sound that tore out of his vocalizer next was definitely a sob as his fingers dragged against Ratchet’s back, nearly scratching through his paint.

“Too much?”

Rung exvented harshly and reset his vocalizer. “Not… not at all.”

He rewarded him by pressing in further and tipping the heel of his hand forward to rub against his anterior node, drawing forth a quiet moan. “So long as you tell me if it is. Don’t keep quiet.”

“It’s… been a while,” Rung admitted softly, and with more than a little static in his voice.

He felt Ratchet smile against the side of his neck. “Nothing wrong with that. Leave the rushing and the quick frags to all the horny young speedsters on the ship. We’ll take it slow.” He set a gentle rhythm, carefully working in and out of Rung’s valve, pulling back against the internal calipers that clutched at him with each pass. “Good for another?”

“Ah-- give me a moment.” When Ratchet hesitated, he rushed to continue. “You don’t have to stop…”

“Oh, really?” The medic tipped his helm, kissing a quick line up the side of his throat. “Is your vocalizer going to glitch if I don’t? I heard that waver earlier, and I want you to schedule a maintenance check first thing in the morning.” All the while he was scolding, he was stroking along various sensors in the delicate mesh.

“Is-- _ah!--_ is now really the time?”

Ratchet shrugged, the movement causing him to tug gently at the rim of Rung’s valve. “I don’t see why not. Seems like we’re busy all other times. If this is what it takes to talk, I don’t have any objection to making this a regular occurrence.”

Rung’s helm fell forward onto Ratchet’s shoulder with a muffled clunk. “Please don’t tease me.”

Ratchet placed a surprisingly chaste kiss, given their situation, against his cheek guard. “I would never.”

He vented. “I think I’m-- good for another,” he murmured instead of offering a proper reply.

The digit retreated for a moment as Ratchet adjusted himself.

“Rung, would you mind if I turned you onto your back? You’d be able to prop yourself up and, well…” He cast a glance downwards and flicked his glossa over his lip. “Gives me a few more options too.”

The little mech mumbled something, faceplates warming to an almost painful degree at the suggestion. His field flared, though with embarrassment, not discomfort.

“What was that, sweetspark?”

It sounded so casual. Rung’s engine revved with such force that it actually made him gasp, and between them, his spark roiled in its casing, bathing both their chests in its glow and glinting off Ratchet’s windshield. Immediately Ratchet’s hand came away from his array and wrapped around his shoulder, easing him further back so he could get a proper look at him.

“Rung? Are you alright?”

Every vent in his frame was as wide as it would go as his fans whirled, spitting out hot air and trying to bring his core temperature back down. Even so, he got out, “I-- I’m fine.”

Ratchet’s thumb brushed back and forth over his shoulder. “Not used to pet names?” he guessed.

Rung dropped his gaze to the general region of his elbow, chewed at his lip, and shook his head.

“I don’t have to use them--”

His optics snapped back up as he rushed to reassure him. “No! No, I don’t mind, I-- um. I don’t mind.”

A slow smirk spread across his face. “Oh, I bet not.” The smirk turned into an all-out grin as Ratchet tapped a lubricant-stained finger against the psychiatrist's sparkglass. “Sweetspark.”

Rung’s spark visibly flared again but he still managed a pained look and a quiet, unsure whine, fidgeting atop Ratchet’s thighs.

“Aw, _Rung.”_ Ratchet gathered him close, rubbing soothingly over his backplates. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, we all tick a little differently. And if you don’t mind me saying, that’s a very pleasant way to tick. If you’re willing, I wouldn’t mind showing you how pleasant.”

He shivered and the only thing that kept his voice audible was the warmth in Ratchet’s field. “Oh? Would you?”

“Mhmm. So, how about it?” Well aware that Rung was watching him despite his downturned helm, Ratchet brought his still stained fingers to his mouth and licked over them, chasing after a drop of lubricant before it could seep past his plating. Once clean, he withdrew his finger with an audible pop and a wide smirk. “Promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Rung swallowed hard, and nodded, optics flicking back up to Ratchet’s. “Please.”

The smirk settled back to more regular proportions. “Please what? Please _you?”_

Before Rung could form a response, Ratchet pressed him flat against his chestplates as he leaned forward and turned seamlessly, not dropping the little bot until he was settled comfortably against the pillows.

Ratchet knelt in front of him and sank down, forcing his knees out as wide as they would go with his feet nearly touching behind him. As he braced himself with one hand in front of him, he could feel the plating at his hips gaping, letting the heated air of the room flow over the thick cables closest to the surface. With a tiny creak of straining metal, he rocked his hips forward, arched his back, and pressed his covered array down towards the berth, allowing a small bit of pride to lick into his field when they nearly touched. His engine purred when he glanced up and caught Rung staring; he almost smirked.

Their optics met and the psychiatrist’s vents momentarily stalled.

Ratchet quirked up an optical ridge. “Well?”

“Oh-- um…” The tip of his glossa darted out to flick over his lip, a gesture not lost on the medic.

“Admiring the view?” he quipped.

He nodded silently, leaned forward, and rested a hand on his knee. “May I?”

Ratchet groaned and dragged a hand over his thigh, towards his covered array. “Oh, that’s tempting. You’re so good with your hands, I can just _imagine…”_ He vented heavily, dumping heated air over both of them. “Good thing I’m patient. I’m not convinced you’ve relaxed enough. Go on, lay back. Let me keep taking care of you.”

In a lazy display, he pushed himself back up and slowly drew his knees back together. Rung still hadn’t moved; Ratchet rested a hand on his shoulder, easing him down as he leaned forward. “How’s that? Comfortable?”

Rung nodded, throat tubing flexing as he swallowed and dragged his gaze from Ratchet’s array back up to his face.

“Mm. I saw that, sweetspark. Let’s save that for next time.”

“N-next time?” he managed.

Ratchet very nearly purred and his hand slipped down to run over Rung’s thigh. “If you want one.”

The little mech reflexively tipped his leg outwards and the medic’s hand slid inwards to sit next to his array.

He smiled and ran his thumb over the exposed cabling. “Is that a yes?”

Rung moaned, squirming under Ratchet’s hand. “Oh, absolute--” His vocalizer hitched and clicked out. “--ly.”

Ratchet quirked an optical ridge up and repeated the motion, prompting a whine. “Yeah, I hear you, Rung. It’s just-- you’re fun to tease, you know that? You make the sweetest noises, and all I have to do is _this.”_

He slipped a pair of fingers between the cables and gave one of them a little tug, drawing out another quiet moan. “See, that’s what I mean. Just… mm. Just gorgeous.” He paused and shot Rung’s hip a look. “Still some tension on these lines, though. You know what, forget the maintenance check on your vocalizer, I want you seeing Aid for a full workup as soon as you can.”

Rung groaned, this time in irritation. “Don’t you ever stop being a doctor?”

“Don’t you?” Ratchet plucked delicately at a wire and Rung warbled out some static in response. He bent to mouth over the thin plating; Rung twitched, hand instinctively jumping to Ratchet’s helm. Ratchet smirked against his thigh. “So we’re both bad. Is that good for you?”

“Very. Oh my, _please…”_

“Please what, Rung? Keep going?”

He nodded vehemently, fingers tapping out an affirmative against the side of Ratchet’s helm.

“Then let me hear you say it.”

Rung squirmed in embarrassment, trying to get him to keep moving and inadvertently pressing his thigh against the medic’s face. _“Oh…_ Ratchet, this is unfair! Don’t _stop--”_

The rest of his sentence was lost to a wail as Ratchet flicked his glossa over the sensitive cables in his hip. Ratchet smirked and nuzzled against him, steadily kissing closer and closer to his array in tiny, fractional increments until finally, _finally--_

Ratchet abruptly lifted himself up and began kissing at his other thigh. Rung’s optics shot back online and he tugged gently at Ratchet’s helm, trying to move him back with a quiet whine.

Ratchet chuckled, sending the vibrations all throughout his array. “Couldn’t have this getting lonely, could I?”

“You are absolutely-- _oh,_ that feels nice…”

Wordlessly, the medic suckled at the nearest cable for a moment before pulling himself off with an audible pop. “Patience, sweetspark.”

Rung did his best not to buck his hips up against Ratchet’s face, but with the way Ratchet had just purred _that_ almost directly into his array, it was hard to do anything else. His plating clanged where it struck against Ratchet’s nasal ridge, but the only response from the medic was a soft, throaty chuckle. He leaned in and blew a long vent of warm air over Rung’s exposed valve and was rewarded with the sight of it cycling down around nothing as the little mech’s hips twiched back up towards him.

“Ra-- _ah!--_ chet!”

“I’ve got you,” Ratchet murmured against his valve.

At the vibration, Rung’s thighs twitched shut, clamping down around the medic’s helm. He squeaked, knees snapping away from Ratchet’s face.

Ratchet caught him and held his thighs in place. “Easy, Rung, easy. It’s alright.” He shifted forward, transferred his weight to his elbows, and adjusted his grip on the mech’s thighs, leaning in to nuzzle against his plating. “Comfortable?”

“Mhmm…”

“Good.” He pressed a kiss against his pelvic plating and tipped his helm back down.

Rung felt it in his spark almost before the sensors in his valve registered the contact and he arched up into it with a throaty moan, grateful for the hands bracing him. Ratchet rolled his glossa over his anterior node and traced down, slipping his glossa past the outer folds of his valve to flick lightly over hidden sensor nodes. He circled each as he found it, moving on once he felt the gentle warmth of biolights coming online. Rung shuddered under him, legs twitching and plating crackling with pent-up charge, almost whimpering in arousal.

Ratchet suckled at a cluster of sensors and Rung let out a soft cry.

“Oh fr-- _oh,_ there, please don’t st-- _ah!--_ don’t stop…”

The medic managed a small smile and pressed his face more firmly against the little mech’s array, nasal ridge rubbing against his anterior node as he sought out a node closer to the back of his valve. He made an appreciative hum when he felt Rung’s fingers scrabbling against his helm.

Rung _wailed,_ warbling out static as the vibration pushed him ever closer to overload. He tugged at Ratchet’s helm and threaded a question into his field, trying to warn him but not trusting himself to speak.

Ratchet carefully adjusted his hips, pulling back to mouth over his anterior node. “I know, sweetspark.” His hand drifted to the small of Rung’s back, slipping in between his plating and the berth to support him. “I know. Go ahead.”

With a sharp cry, Rung overloaded, fringe systems glitching out with the force of it. It took him a moment to reboot everything and when he did, he propped himself up and glanced down to find Ratchet still kneeling between his lubricant-stained thighs, smiling softly up at him.

He pressed a kiss to the front of Rung’s pelvic plating as he sat up, licking a drop of lubricant off his lip and pulling a cleaning cloth from his subspace. “How was that?”

“Oh my… I can’t feel my knees,” Rung replied blearily.

Ratchet laughed. “That good?”

After a moment, Rung joined him. His smile was hidden behind one hand, but the telltale quivering of his shoulders gave his laughter away all the same. “Without a _doubt.”_ He tipped his knee aside to allow the medic easier access with the cloth. “Oh, thank you.”

“Happy to help. You looked like you needed it.”

“I did… though I, ah.” Rung reset his vocalizer, hand falling away from his face. “I do hope you’ll allow me to return the favor at some point.”

Ratchet let his engine rev sharply in appreciation at the thought. “I’ll clear my calendar.” He stowed the cleaning cloth back in his subspace and clicked Rung’s panels shut, pushing himself up with a wince and the sound of popping struts.

Rung leaned forward to steady him. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just… spent too long my elbow. Shoulder tried to jam.” Ratchet made a face, rubbing at the joint.

Rung hummed in concern and pushed himself forward to kneel in front of Ratchet, reaching up to nudge the medic’s hand out of the way. He easily found the tangled wires and set to straightening them, gently tugging them back into place.

_“You_ work too much,” Rung scolded. “How long has it been since you had this properly realigned?”

Ratchet just laughed. “You’re one to talk, Rung!”

“You’ve done my maintenance-- so to speak.” Rung smiled. “Now, let _me_ take care of _you.”_

**Author's Note:**

> super big thanks to [kibahshi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kibahshi/) for their help with edits and to [Cranky_Tanky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cranky_Tanky/) for their encouragement! without those two, this would still be sitting around untouched in my docs, so thanks guys!


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